Copycat
by Who the hell is Arabella
Summary: At the age of 19, Arabella has her first encounter with Steve Rogers. On that very day her life changed for good. But was that change a good thing? And who even is Arabella? What's her story? Why does she wear gloves all the time? Read and find out. Steve/OC - Starts at the end of The First Avenger. Rated M for swearing, and perhaps some smut ;)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello and welcome to** _ **another**_ **Steve/OC fanfic. There are so many Steve/OC fics out there, so there's bound to be a high standard out there that I'm probably not going to be able to meet. But I still hope you'll give this story a chance.**

 **I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes you might read. English isn't my first language, and although I like to think my English is spotless, it isn't. So there's a very high chance you'll find a mistake here and there.**

 **DICLAIMER: I own nothing, only my OC and any storyline you don't recognize from the franchise. The Avengers, Captain America and all other heavenly films are owned by Marvel, and of course, the most badass person in any Marvel production, Stan Lee.**

* * *

 **Part I**

 **Chapter 1**

"Come on, freak, wake up!"

I groaned when I felt someone shaking me, grabbing me by my shoulders. I hadn't had the best sleep this night, I could've only slept for two hours, maybe even less. But then again, when was the last time I ever had a decent sleep? When was the last time I slept for more than four hours a night, if I even slept at all? It was definitely over a year ago. Probably the night before my eighteenth birthday… I groaned again and forced the memories that were coming up back into that one dark corner of my mind reserved for them. Thinking about it now wasn't a good idea. I wouldn't be able to function if I allowed myself to. No, I was already being tormented by those memories in my dreams, the only place I couldn't control them. I didn't need them when I was awake as well.

"Ace, get up, I've got a job for you."

What a surprise. I groaned one last time into the backpack of clothes that I used as a make-shift pillow and slowly sat up on the thin piece of cardboard I didn't even dare call a mattress, pushing the smelly blanket off of me.

I raised my head to meet Jay's harsh face. I mentally sighed, he used to be so nice. Of course, only as long as I was still cooperating out of free will he was good to me. But once I wanted out, he wasn't so nice anymore. I had been so naive to trust him.

"Where?" I asked him, my voice empty.

He gave me a piece of paper, a name and an address scribbled on it in his trademarking barely readable handwriting. It took me weeks to finally decipher it at first, but now I was kind of proud I could actually read it.

When I read which place he wanted me to go, I raised my eyebrow. "Are you serious? This is in one of the busiest parts of the city."

He merely raised his eyebrow right back at me, challenging me.

My jaw clenched. "I can't do it there, someone will see!"

"That's your problem, not mine." He stood up straight after having been kneeling beside me for the past few minutes. "Better go and get ready, you have two hours." He walked away after that, whistling that annoying song that was all over the radio at the moment.

I watched him go, hate filling my thin body. God, I hated him so much. I never knew a person was capable of so much hatred. But I guess at least some of that hatred was not directed at him. I only have myself to blame for what happened to me. I never should have trusted him in the first place.

Groaning, I lifted my ratty body of the cardboard. I stretched out thoroughly, trying to make the stiffness go away as much as possible. I grabbed my backpack and slowly started making my way up to the bathroom. Not that it really was a bathroom. There was no streaming water. The only water available was rainwater that was being collected outside with a barrel, which was connected with a pipe that hung over the wash basin. No one in this old wreck of a building ever showered because of that. One, there was barely enough water for everyone to even wash their hands, let alone their entire body; and two, the water was green from the algae in the barrel. Not very appealing to wash yourself with.

I entered the room, closed the door and pushed the chair under the knob to make sure no one could walk in. Being the only woman in this house, I quickly learned that I didn't want any of the others being able to walk into a room where I would be completely alone with them. That's why I convinced Jay to let me sleep in his room with him. The others wouldn't dare touch me while I was with him. I couldn't stand the man, but at least I was safe. And the others were safe from me.

Walking over to the broken mirror, I took my black faux-leather gloves off, then my hoodie, leaving me in my gray tank top in front of the mirror. I inspected it for a moment, and decided it was still good enough to wear. I bended over and grabbed a remotely washcloth out of my backpack. I turned the valve on the pipe, letting just enough water flow on the washcloth before turning it off again. I swiped it over my face, breathing through my mouth to avoid smelling the green rain water. I knew I probably shouldn't use it at all, but I hated the way my skin would feel greasy after a few days.

After I was done, I stared at my reflection. No, 'glared at it' would be a better description. I glared at my dyed blond hair, starting to show my originally chocolate brown hair at its roots. I'll have to ask Jay for a new pack of hair dye soon. I glared at the green eyes behind the thick glasses through which I could barely see. My eyes were supposed to be dark brown, not the kiwi green the colored contacts made them appear. The glasses I wore were not my own glasses; Jay made me throw them away and gave me the ones I was wearing instead. They weren't my prescription though, which meant I couldn't see shit through them at first. After a while I got used to it, although my vision isn't the greatest and I have a continuous headache from seeing through them. But at least I got glasses. If it had been completely up to Jay, he wouldn't have let me wear them at all, he would have made me wear contacts. But there he hit a dilemma; colored contact lenses to change my eye color or contacts for me to see through. In the end he decided the colored ones plus different glasses would be best. It would be better in our mission to make me as unrecognizable as possible. Because at first that was still something I agreed to, because I understood why it was necessary. Yet here I am, one year and five months later, glaring at the way I look because it isn't _me._

I angrily pushed myself away from the mirror and searched through my backpack for a hooded vest I could wear. I found a dark green one and pulled it on, zipping it up to the top. Then I pulled on my black combat boots, glad with the good shape they were still in. But then again, I didn't expect anything else from Dr. Martens, he sure did know how to make some fine shoes. I stood up, put on my black scarf, then my gloves and finally I pulled the hood of my vest over my head. I checked myself over really quick, to make sure there were no risks of skin contact with any other person than the name on the piece of paper Jay gave me.

When I was sure of that fact, I made my way downstairs, dropping of my backpack on the piece of cardboard that was supposed to be my bed, then headed out.

Once I was out of the door, I saw Ronny sitting on the stone steps leading up to the abandoned house Jay, me and Jay's henchmen were squatting in. Whilst descending the weathered steps, I poked the back of his head with my gloved finger.

"You better stay out of my backpack this time, Ronny," I halfheartedly threatened him.

He looked up at me and grinned widely, although he had a few missing teeth. "I can't make any promises, Ace!"

I just rolled my eyes and turned around. After orientating myself for a moment, I was on my way.

Ronny was alright. The only thing I detested was how he called me 'Ace'. But everyone at that house called me like that, so I didn't hold it against him. It was Jay who came up with it in the first place. 'Ace' is short for 'A.S.' which are the initials of the name Jay made up to put on my false papers, Arabella Smith. I had actually preferred they'd call me Arabella, since that was my original middle name, and it reminded me of home. Not home in Baltimore, but home home. Belgium. You see, I was actually born there. I lived there until I was fifteen, then my mom married my stepdad, who was an American, and we moved in with him. Excited as I was to go and live in the states, since I thought America would be so much better than Belgium, I thought I'd never miss it. But now, at the age of nineteen, I wished I was back there. I wished I'd never left. I missed it, so hard. I missed being able to speak Dutch. I missed complaining about having to learn French in school. I missed my grandmother, Arabella, to whom my middle name was named after. I missed my sister.

A pang of ache stabbed me through the heart at the thought of my sister. Last time I saw her was during the two weeks of vacation she had from school around Christmas time, nearly two years ago now. She came to spend her vacation with us, and I remember she was scared to fly, because it would be the first time she would be flying all alone. Usually her father would come over as well, and he would stay in another part of Baltimore (my mom didn't want him to stay with us because she couldn't deal with the awkwardness of having her ex-husband around her current husband), but that year he couldn't get the two weeks off from work. So my then twelve-year-old sister had to fly by herself. And she was absolutely petrified. But she was a brave girl and flew the entire nine-hour flight by herself. I was so proud of her.

A sad smile formed on my mouth at the memory, but then I sighed. I wished I were able to see her, or even speak to her. But I knew I couldn't, knowing she'd probably only be mad at me, and blame me for what happened to our mom.

I picked up my pace, briskly wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape my eyelids.

After about half an hour of walking, I reached my destination. I nervously looked around me at the big number of people walking up and down the street. "'That's your problem, not mine', my ass," I muttered as I was searching for the house number I needed. "Didn't he realize fucking _Time Square_ in the middle of the day wouldn't be his problem?"

When I found the correct house, I walked up to the long list of bells of the people who lived in the apartments in that building. I quickly searched the list, pressing the bell that belonged to the person on my piece of paper. While waiting for him to respond, I quickly checked the portal to see there were no camera's hidden anywhere that could hint him, or anyone else for that matter, of my identity. Fortunately, I couldn't find any.

After around half a minute, a voice could be heard through the speaker.

" _Hello?_ "

"Hi, I have a package for Jason Graham. Is that you?" I spoke, loud enough for the mic to pick up.

" _Yes that's me. But I didn't order anything…_ "

"For as far as I can see from the box, it's a present," I made up. "Could you come down for a minute Sir, I need you to sign the paper here."

" _Alright. I'll be down in a minute_ ," he said, sounding irritated.

Whilst waiting for him to come downstairs, I looked around me. The building next doors caught my eye. Glass windows, glass doors, the people inside all dressed in suits, wearing badges to access the building; it looked like some secret government building or something.

I snorted. Yeah right. Life is not a James Bond movie, Arabella.

I turned my head back to the door in front of me when I heard it open, and prepped myself for what I was about to do.

A dark haired male, probably around his early forties came into view. He looked me over, and rose his eyebrows quizzically when he saw I wasn't carrying a package. He opened his mouth to ask about it, but I didn't give him the chance to.

"Hello, Jason. Jay sent me, he wants his money."

The man instantly paled and tried to shut the door, but I jumped forwards, placing my foot in front of the door. I pushed against the door, forcing my way into the small hallway. Jason tried to run up the stairs, but I reached for his leg and pulled him down. He fell over, and tried crawling up the stairs like that, but I turned him over and leaned over him.

I studied his face. He looked at me with terrified eyes, as if he knew what I was capable of. But then again, of course he knew. He had heard the stories. And Jay of course threatened him with sending his 'asset' on him if he didn't pay in time. And it was past due date.

"Please don't kill me," he whimpered. "Oh God, please don't kill me." And then he started sobbing.

I sighed. "Listen Jason, I'm not here to kill you, I don't even _want_ to kill you. But unfortunately, Jay wants his money for the false papers he provided you. He already gave you two weeks extra. If you don't pay up now, I'm afraid I'll have to do what Jay ordered me to do." He sobbed loudly. "And I know you know that what I can do, is even worse than being dead."

He nodded his head, and then tried to bargain. "Give me one more week, I'll have my salary by then. Please just one more week…"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry Jason, but no more extra time. Jay wants his money now."

He started sobbing even heavier. Gross sobs sounded in the hallway. "I don't have the money right now!" he nearly shouted. Then I could hear him mumble stuff like "Please just one more week", "God please don't do it to me" and "I have a daughter, she's in trouble, she needed the papers, I just wanted to help her".

My heart broke, just like it always did when I had to do this. But I had no choice. I started taking off one of my gloves.

"I'm so sorry Jason, I really am," I said, my voice breaking.

He whimpered and closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was inevitably going to happen.

I raised my now ungloved hand to his face, and as tears leaked down my face, I touched his cheek. The effect was immediately noticeable. His body calmed down, as did his breathing. His head lolled to the side, and then there he lay. One moment he was fine, the other he was in a coma no one would know how to get him out of. A coma for life instead of dying right away. In my opinion it was infinitely worse than being killed.

And all that from a touch from my skin.

I broke down next to him, sobbing just as hard as he had been doing only moments ago. I hated Jay for making me do this. I hated myself for having trusted him when I should have realized he wasn't to be trusted at all. And most of all I hated the unknown thing that had made me have these powers in the first place.

I sat there, crying for a good ten minutes, before I pulled myself together and stood up. I wiped away my tears and pulled my glove back on. Slowly walking to the door that was opened ajar, I checked my surroundings to see if there was nothing there that could be traced back to me. I sniffed one last time, before clenching my jaw and walking out the door.

The second I was outside; I was knocked off my feet. I fell down on the ground and felt a – was that a bare _foot_? On my _face_?

I winced in pain, and then I gasped, because that person had touched my skin with his! I sighed miserably and clenched my eyes shut, expecting to hear a thud next to me of his body falling to the ground.

But when the sound didn't come, my eyes flew open and I sat up straight. I looked around for the person with the bare feet, but I couldn't see anything from my position on the ground.

I stood up, again looking frantically around me; until I saw a tall blond man standing in the middle of Time Square, looking dazed. There was a man in a long black leather coat and eyepatch talking to him. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but that wasn't the most important thing right now. I looked the blond man down, and noticed that his feet were bare. He _was_ the one that had touched my skin with his bare foot.

 _How the hell was he still standing?_

I stared at him with wide eyes, but then I smiled widely. It doesn't happen to everyone! If it didn't work on him, there must be others out there too!

I started walking towards him, but then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head and saw a man in suit standing in the doorway of the hallway where I had left Jason.

He had a stern look on his face. A look directed at me.

I froze. I knew I needed to get out of there, but I also wanted to talk to the blond man that had somehow managed to stay awake after touching me.

I felt torn.

Then, suddenly, I decided that my own safety was more important, so I decided to run. But I had decided too late. Because right at that moment, before I even had the chance to turn around, two pairs of gloved hands grabbed me from behind. I felt a needle being inserted in my neck and then the liquid being injected.

The last thing I could remember before my world turned black, was the face of the man in suit from the doorway look at me in sympathy.

* * *

 **There we are, the first chapter is done. It's a bit short, but it's only a sort of introductory chapter. Next chapters will hopefully be longer.**

 **Okay so leave me a review if you liked it! Or if you didn't like it, that's perfectly fine too, then I can do something about it :)**

 **Face claim for Arabella: Moora vander Veken (She's a Belgian actress, look her up on Google images!)**

 **Thanks for reading, I'll update as soon as I can!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't really have anything to say at the moment, I just wanted to thank the people that followed, fav'ed and reviewed. You rock!**

 **DISCLAIMER:** **I own nothing, only my OC and any storyline you don't recognize from the franchise. The Avengers, Captain America and all other heavenly films are owned by Marvel, and of course, the most badass person in any Marvel production, Stan Lee.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 **Third person P.O.V.**

Nick Fury stood at the end of the hospital bed, looking at the frail body of the girl laying down on it. In his opinion, she looked like she'd been through a lot. There weren't any physical signs that gave it away – she didn't have any bruises or cuts or anything like that – but you could tell from the way her face was restless, even whilst unconscious. Her brows were slightly furrowed, her lips were nearly pouting, and now and then she would whimper, as if she were being haunted in her sleep. Which she probably was, Nick thought. If he had had her ability, he would have had nightmares too.

He felt bad for the girl for a moment, before he forced it away. In his line of work, you couldn't afford to be sympathetic. You eliminate the threat. And the girl in front of him, bound to the bed with restraints on her legs, torso, arms, wrists and head, was most definitely a threat. He knew she was being forced to use her power, by some low-life, shady guy, one of the hundreds you'd find in the back alleys of New York. SHIELD had been watching her for a while now. They knew where she lived, with whom she lived and what she did to survive. The only reason they hadn't picked her up earlier was because they had wanted more intel on her. Not that they had now.

Nick frowned. The girl was a ghost; they had no idea who she was. When they scanned her finger prints, there were no matching results. When they ran her face through the recognition software, same thing; no results. Even a DNA test didn't provide an identity. According to their data, the girl didn't exist. He stared hard at the girl with his eye, as if he could make the answers appear out of nowhere.

Even though they still had no intel on her, they couldn't just let her go when she put a man in a coma right next to SHIELD's NYC headquarters. Not that she knew that of course. But that was the final straw. They couldn't let that one slide.

They had brought the man, Jason Graham, in as well. He lay further down the hall. SHIELD's medic staff had run tests on him to see if they could find the reason why he, and all the others this girl had touched, had suddenly become comatose at her touch. They hadn't found anything yet; the specialists had said that it was like he'd simply fallen asleep. But Nick didn't give up that easily. He ordered them to keep looking. There must be _something;_ something that would help the man and all the others she had touched.

After an hour of staring at the girl, he clenched his jaw and promptly exited the room. There was another problem he needed to deal with.

A certain soldier.

* * *

 **Arabella P.O.V.**

After being asleep for an unknown amount of time, I slowly started to regain consciousness. I tried opening my eyes, but the room I was in was too bright, so I kept my eyes shut for a couple of seconds more. I noticed I was laying down on a very flat bed, but it was still ten thousand times more comfortable than the piece of cardboard I slept on in Jay's place.

My eyes flew open and I sat up straight, not caring about the light anymore. Jay! I've been away for too long, he'll think I ran and will tell the police everything! I need to go _right now_ and explain everything to him or I'll be in so much trouble…

I tried to get up from the bed, but looking down at myself I noticed for the first time the restraints. I'd been bound to the bed by my legs and wrists, but after testing them a bit, I saw that whoever had put them on hadn't done a very good job; I could pull them loose with a gentle flick of my wrists. Once my hands were free I pulled the one over my legs loose. I stood up and stood beside the bed for a second, my legs wobbling. When my footing was stable, I checked the bed over. It had pristine white sheets, the same shade as the walls, so it seemed like I was in some sort of hospital room. I also noticed I had been restrained by my arms, chest and head as well. I must have broken out of them when I sat up straight earlier. I tss-ked but mentally thanked that person for doing such a crappy job. Also I thanked whoever had let me keep all of my clothes, including my gloves, on. The only thing they had taken off were my shoes. They were standing neatly next to the bed. I bended over and pulled my trusty combat boots on, happy I didn't lose them.

Then I turned to the door. _Now, to get out of here…_ Wherever 'here' was.

I tested the doorknob, and to my surprise, the door was unlocked. I carefully opened it and took a peek into the hallway. It looked like a hospital wing, but I was pretty sure I wasn't in an actual hospital. After looking left and right, I assumed the coast was clear, as there was no one to be seen. I closed the door behind me to keep up appearances. I walked as silently as possible through the corridor, trying not to alert anyone of my presence. Turning around a corner, I could see a big 'Exit' sign above a pair of big double doors at the end of the hallway. I headed that way, walking a little faster this time. I looked at the doors I passed, curious to see what was behind them. Most doors had the blinders in front of the windows down, so I couldn't see inside the room. But when I passed a door with the blinders up, I halted in front of it.

Inside I could see a familiar man lying down, apparently asleep. An entire team of doctors surrounded him, all looking busy with doing stuff I didn't really understand. I stepped closer to the door, trying to get a better look. But then I realized why he looked so familiar. It was Jason. The man I had put into a coma. Guilt flooded my body, and I forced myself to turn my head away and continue to the exit.

But I had only walked a couple of steps before a loud alarm blared through the corridor. Shit, I cursed. They must have noticed I was gone. I started running to the double doors which were only around ten feet away now. I burst through them, only to run right into a man in suit who was about to enter the hospital wing. I accidentally knocked him over, but grabbed his arms before he could fall. I let go as soon as he was standing stable again, and looked behind him, trying to find a way out. The sound of the alarm dimmed out as the doors fell shut behind me.

He looked at me in surprise, but then straightened himself. "Please," he said. "Don't try to run. We only want to help you."

Help? I mentally scoffed. No one can help me.

When I didn't respond, but also didn't try to run either, he took it as a sign to continue. "We know what you can do, and we – _I_ want to help you."

Thinking it over really quick, I responded, "How on earth would _you_ be able to help me? If you truly know what I can do, then you must realize I'm a lost cause."

His answer was instant. "No one is a lost cause to me. Everyone deserves a chance to be better, to be _helped_."

He said it with a strong voice, and I knew that he meant it. While he was waiting for me to respond, I looked him over. He appeared to be in his late thirties, early forties. He had light brown hair, and a receding hairline, as well as strong but kind blue eyes. There was nothing I could say about his suit, as that was all it was; a suit. I saw a badge hanging on his belt and inspected it from afar. I couldn't make out the name – I was too far away – but I could see a logo… SHIELD? I didn't know what that was, but it sounded official.

My gaze turned back to his face, and I saw him looking at me with an open look, a slight smile on his lips. He knew I was seizing him up, but he seemed okay with that. Even more so, it looked like he welcomed it.

After a staring contest that lasted for a few minutes longer, with the gears in my head turning, I deemed him trustworthy enough. I relaxed my stance, which he noticed. His small smile turned into a real one.

But before he had a chance to talk again, I asked him, "What's SHIELD? Where am I? And who are you?" I cringed at the raspy sound my voice made, so I cleared my throat.

"'SHIELD' is short for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. But secretly I think someone really wanted our initials to spell out SHIELD," he joked. The corner of my mouth twitched slightly, refusing to let myself actually smile, but if the twinkle in his eyes meant anything, he noticed. "You're at our New York City headquarters. And to answer your other question…" He extended his hand for me to shake. "Agent Phil Coulson, at your service."

I hesitated for a moment, before shaking his hand with my gloved one. "Arabella."

He released my hand. "Arabella…?" he asked me, trailing off, expecting me to fill in the blank space.

"Just Arabella. For now," I responded.

He nodded his head. "Very well."

At that moment, a guard burst through the door behind me, obviously looking for me. He halted when he noticed us. His eyes narrowed, flitting between me and agent Coulson. It was kind of amusing to be honest.

"Everything is okay, Pete," Coulson spoke up. "I've got the situation under control. You can return to your post."

Pete grumbled something incoherently, but walked over to Coulson. He whispered something in his ear before he turned around. As he passed me, he looked at me suspiciously. Then he walked through the doors of the hospital wing and was gone. My gaze flickered back to the agent in front of me and I saw he was looking at me with a calculating look.

I raised my eyebrows. "What was that all about?"

Coulson smiled that small smile again, something that seemed to be a trademark of sorts, and said, "Nothing you need to concern yourself with. For now." The last two words obviously a reference to my earlier words.

I grimaced, but that only seemed to amuse him. He turned around and started walking, in the opposite direction of the hospital wing. "Come with me," was all he said. Hesitating, I looked around again. As if he sensed what I was doing, he said, without even looking at me, "And I advise you to not try to escape, I can assure you you won't get very far."

I sighed, but started following him, jogging at first to catch up with him. "Where are you taking me?" I asked as soon as I was right behind him.

"Somewhere we can talk."

There was more I wanted to ask him, but one look over his shoulder directed at me shut me up. After leading me through a maze of long hallways and dozens of doors, he stopped in front of an elevator. We stepped in it and when it started moving up, but didn't stop for a rather long time, I could tell we were quite high up. Walking out of the elevator, I saw that the area we were in was considerably nicer than the one I had woken up in. It was very light, which was probably due to the wall of windows on my left. Some big plants in pots were scattered around the room, providing a nice sense of greenery. I followed Coulson into another hallway, but somewhere in the middle he stopped and unlocked a door with a key he pulled out of his pocket. He stepped in and held the door open for me. As soon as I had walked in, he closed it behind me, but didn't lock it.

Looking around me, I saw we had entered an office of sorts, probably his. There was a desk with a computer nestled on it, an office chair behind it, with two normal chairs in front of it. The wall on my left was just like the one I had seen when we first walked onto this floor, completely made out of glass windows. I wandered over to them and glimpsed down. I had been right in my earlier assumption; we were _very_ high up. Coulson must be someone important then, I thought.

I turned back to him, and saw he was standing behind his desk. He gestured for me to sit down. As soon as I had taken a seat, he said, "Can I get you anything? Something to drink, something to eat perhaps?"

As if on cue, my stomach started growling loudly. _Damn_ , when was the last time I had eaten something?

Coulson chuckled. "I take that as a 'yes'."

He reached down into the cabinet of his desk. He pulled out a can of soda and two sandwiches wrapped in foil. He put the can down in front of me and asked, "Bacon and egg or Chicken?" He held up the two sandwiches. But before I could say anything, he answered in my place. "You know what? Here, have both." He handed them over.

I smiled slightly. "Thank you," I answered gratefully. And I really was. The sandwiches looked delicious.

I opened the can of soda, and noticed it was ice cold, just like the sandwiches for that matter. Did he seriously have a fridge in his desk? Shrugging, I took a sip from the soda. I was starting to think that nothing here should surprise me anymore.

As I was unwrapping the chicken sandwich, Coulson cleared his throat and spoke up. "Do you mind if we talk while you eat?"

I shook my head. "Not at all. Go ahead," I said, and took a bite from the sandwich. My eyes widened. "This is weally good!" I said with my mouth full.

He smiled amusedly, but otherwise didn't respond on that.

"So. How long have you been in New York?" he asked, starting off light. "Your accent isn't from around here."

I swallowed the bite. "About a year and five months now."

"And how long have you had your ability?"

I looked down at my sandwich. "About a year and five months." I took another bite.

He cocked his head sideways, narrowing his eyes slightly. "How old are you exactly?"

"Nineteen."

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk. "Let me take a guess, they started on your 18th birthday?" I paused munching on the sandwich for a moment, looking directly at him, and nodded. "And if I did the math correctly, it must have happened somewhere in February 2010."

I nodded again. "The twelfth."

He hummed in thought. "And why did you come to New York?"

Turning to my sandwich again, I took another bite. Then another. While I was eating, I knew Coulson was watching me intently. He knew I was stalling, but I could tell he wasn't going to let his question go unanswered.

When I finished it, I rumpled the piece of foil and carefully put it down on the desk. Then I finally answered him. "Before I came here, I used to live in Baltimore with my mom and stepdad. But then on my eighteenth birthday, something… happened." My voice wavered a bit. "I couldn't stay there anymore. I needed to disappear. So I ran. I found my way to New York City, where I changed my name and looks, to prevent anyone from finding me. Then I –"

"– Stayed with the man who helped you hide your identity, where you were forced to use your ability on the people that owed him," he finished for me. My eyes widened, and my mouth dropped. "We've been following you for a while now."

I closed my mouth and swallowed thickly. I looked down on my hands and started fiddling with them nervously. "It wasn't like that at first," I spoke softly. "When I came to New York, I was roaming the streets and alleys for nearly a month before I ran into Jay. He found me shivering in the rain and offered me a place to take cover from the cold and the weather. He took me to this old abandoned building, and told me of the 'services' he provided. He changed my name for me, and helped me change my looks; blonde hair dye, green contacts, different glasses… He was so nice to me, so I told him about why I had run. I was young, stupid, and incredibly naïve to believe he wanted nothing in return for his 'help'. So when he heard about what I could do, he offered me to stay with him in that building, where I had a place to sleep, eat and find shelter, and all he wanted in return was my help with his 'business'. He wanted me to threaten the people who owed him so they would pay up, he said that was the only thing he wanted from me. So I was happy to help him out with that, he had been so nice to me, so it was the least I could do."

"But then he forced you to touch someone," Coulson spoke up, looking at me with sympathy.

I nodded. "It was only a week or so after I started living with him. He brought me to one of his appointments; there was a gang of three or four people he was meeting, they owed him money and he wanted back-up. When they refused to pay, Jay started threatening them, telling them what I could do. I, being oh so naïve, joined him, telling them I'd turn them into Sleeping Beauty," I scoffed, before continuing, "and that they better started paying. They just laughed at us. But then Jay grabbed my hand, ripped off my glove and pushed it against the forehead of their leader. He fell down instantly, and the others, spooked, ran off. I was so angry with jay, I felt so betrayed, but he simply sneered at me and told me I'd better cooperate, or he'd tell the police who I was and what I'd done. Then he sent me after the ones that had ran." A few tears had started sliding down my cheek and I sniffed. Coulson offered me a tissue and I smiled sadly at him in thanks. "God, I was so _stupid_."

He was quiet for a while. He just let me have a moment to myself, for which I was grateful.

After a couple of minutes though, he did spoke up. "I already told you what SHIELD means, but I haven't told you yet what we _stand for_."

I looked up at him questioningly.

"We are a government agency, specialized to eliminate threats the FBI can't handle. Aliens, Gods, people with powers…" he said, giving me a significant look. "Our job is to make sure people are safe from harm, safe from the things they wouldn't understand anyway."

I gulped. "And by eliminate you mean…"

"Anything to make sure the threat is removed." He saw my nervous look and explained further. "That doesn't necessarily mean we kill them. We try to train them to control it first. Killing is really a last resort none of us really like to take."

"But what would you do with me? There's nothing for me to train on."

"Are you sure about that?"

My eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He pursed his lips. He answered my question with another question. "How did you escape from your room earlier?"

I sighed irritably at him for changing the subject but I obliged. "I woke up, got out of the restraints – someone did a really lousy job on that by the way, I could break out way too easily – and walked out the door, which was unlocked. The entire thing seemed way too easy now that I think about it," I answered.

"That's because it shouldn't have been easy at all," he said. "Those restraints were made by our specialists, and I myself checked them over. There's no way you could have broken out as easily as you did."

I stared at him in confusion.

"And the unlocked door? It was definitely locked. You just pulled it open, ripping the lock apart. I don't think you've been entirely honest with me," he said sternly. But when he saw my shocked, confused stare, he added softly in realization, "Or you didn't know."

I shook my head. "No, I – What? Are you sure I did all of that?"

He nodded. "Positive."

Looking down, I spotted the now empty can of soda. I picked it up, and tried to pull it apart, to test if he was saying the truth.

I ripped it in half as if it were a sheet of paper.

There's _no way_ I was able to do that before. I looked down at the two halves in my hands in shock, then up at Coulson. He didn't look as surprised as I must have looked.

"Now that we've established there is in fact something for you to train on, how would you feel about staying here with us?" he smiled. Realizing there was much more to my ability as I had originally thought, I wanted nothing more than to stay. But my mind flickered to Jay. "And you don't have to worry about him anymore," he continued as if he had read my thoughts. "If you stay with us that is."

Hesitating, I asked him, "Why do you want to help me so much? It's obvious that my ability is nothing but trouble. It can only be used for evil. _I_ can only be used for evil."

He smiled reassuringly. "You're more than just evil, Arabella. I see good in you. I see it in the way you _always_ cry after you comatosed somebody. I see it in the way you push others away from you to protect them, completely isolating yourself in the process. And I saw it earlier when we ran into each other; you were trying to escape, yet your first instinct was to prevent me from falling."

I smiled sheepishly, not knowing what to say.

"It's because of that good that _I_ want to help you. I only need you accepting that help."

I thought it through for a few minutes, before whispering, "Okay."

"Thank you. So what I was hoping you'd agree on, is allow us to run some tests on you. Mainly to see if there's anything hiding in your chemical formula that could de-comatose the people you've touched."

I raised my eyebrows. "You're going to look for a cure?" He nodded his head and hummed. "Sure, of course I'll let you test me, I'll do anything to help."

"Good," he smiled at me in approval. "Now, let's get you to your room. I'm sure you'll be wanting to fresh yourself up for a bit. The tests can wait for an hour or two."

Smiling in thanks, I stood up, eager, before I realized something. "I don't have any fresh clothes though."

"You don't need to worry about that, I'll contact a friend of mine, she can bring you some clothing." Before I could ask, he answered my unspoken question, "And yes, I'll make sure she brings you something with long sleeves and the like."

He stood up as well. "I'll go and lead you to your room now."

He strode over to the door, but halted when I spoke up. "Agent Coulson." Turning around, he met my gaze. "Thank you."

He smiled, and I knew he knew how much his help meant to me. He continued walking, gesturing me to follow him.

While we were waiting for the elevator, he suddenly said, "You can call me Phil."

I looked at him questioningly, and he explained. "Since I can only call you Arabella, it's only fair you call me by my first name as well."

I smiled, but shook my head. "Arabella isn't my real first name."

Meanwhile, the elevator had arrived and we went down a couple of floors, before we stepped out again. Couls- _Phil_ led me through a long hallway, and at the end of it we stopped by a door on our right and walked in. It was a simple one window bedroom. It had a single bed, a desk with a chair, a small fridge and a radio on top of the fridge. There was a door that led to a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, mirror and wash table.

I was inspecting the contents of my room, when Phil spoke up again.

"I know."

Turning around, I saw he was leaning against the door post, his arms crossed in front of him. "Hm?" I responded.

"I know Arabella isn't your real first name. I don't know what your real name is of course, but I know you changed it. I can also tell you're not native, so where are you from exactly?"

I sat down on the edge of the bed, facing him, and sighed. "I was born and raised in Belgium before my mom married my American stepdad when I was fifteen and we moved to Baltimore. My real first name… isn't very easy for native English speaking people to pronounce, which irritates me too much to be honest; they say it all wrong and make it sound like I'm a dude," he chuckled at that, and even I had to smile. "So Arabella is good enough for me, since it was my original middle name. My last name is a bit easier; Willems."

"Arabella Willems," he tested, before shrugging. "Easy enough."

I snorted. "Yeah, that doesn't sound all that bad. But I'm still not telling you my first name."

He simply smiled at that, but I could see a twinkle in his eyes, one I had learned only appeared when he was amused.

He pushed himself away from the door post. "I'll leave you alone now. I texted that friend I told you about on our way down. She'll be here soon with some clothing."

I smiled. "Thanks, Phil."

"No problem. I'll come pick you up for your test in two hours." Smiling back at me, he exited the room and closed the door behind him.

He had been right; I didn't need to wait very long before there was a gentle knock on the door. "Come in," I called out, loud enough for the person at the door to hear, and stood up.

The door opened and a woman with strawberry blonde hair walked in, dressed in a soft pink blouse neatly tucked into a black pencil skirt. She wore heels in the same shade of pink as her blouse, with a height I knew I would never be able to walk on.

I recognized her instantly and gasped. " _You're_ Phil's friend?" I blurted, before I realized how rude that must have sounded. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! But I just wasn't expecting _Pepper freaking Potts_ to waltz in!"

She chuckled and then smiled at me reassuringly. "It's okay, really. I know Phil through Tony."

"Ahh, yes of course, because he's Iron Man… and stuff..." I mumbled, completely thrown because of her appearance here. I've seen her on the news and talk shows on the old television Jay had set up. She was one of the most important faces in the business world, now she was CEO of Stark Industries; she and Tony Stark were about halfway through building Stark Tower, a big building that was going to be powered solely on Stark's arch reactor technology; and of course, she was also Iron Man's girlfriend. She was basically as famous as the president.

She chuckled again. "Phil said I would like you. He was right."

My mouth dropped, absolutely star struck.

She walked over to the bed, and dropped the bags she was holding onto the sheets. "I brought you a little of everything, you know, just the basics. The underwear and bras are clean, in fact they're entirely new. I always keep some extra for occasions like this. I didn't know your size so that's why I brought you sport bras, they fit everyone. And I think you're capable of checking out the rest on your own," she winked.

"S-Sure!" I exclaimed. "Thank you so much! I-I don't know how to repay you though…"

She waved me away. "Don't be silly, I want nothing in return. Only that you come and visit me sometime when Stark tower is finished. I think you have the potential of becoming a great friend, Arabella. You don't mind me calling you Arabella, right? Phil told me your name."

I quickly shook my head. "No! Not at all, and of course I'll come over a few times. I'd be honored."

She smiled at me warmly, until suddenly a cellphone tone could be heard. "Oh, that's mine!" Pepper said, and reached in her purse, she pulled out her mobile, looked at me apologizingly and picked up. "Hello? – Yes Tony, I'm still at SHIELD… - I don't know why you're complaining, I've only been gone for 15 minutes! – No, I don't know where you left your pen – No I didn't take it! – Have you checked behind your ear? – Did you find it? – Was it behind your ear? – Seriously, how do you even survive without me… - Yeah, okay, I'll be there soon – Love you too, bye."

When she was done after a few minutes, I looked at her, amused. "That's quite a conversation you had there," I chuckled.

She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I wonder how he even manages to _breathe_ when I'm not around."

I actually laughed at that. It was the first time in a long while, and I had to admit it felt really good.

Pepper sighed. "I have to go now though. You take care okay?"

I nodded my head and she turned to the door. "Thanks again, Pepper."

"Anytime. Just call me if you ever need someone to talk to, you can ask Phil for my number."

"Will do. Bye!" I called as she walked out the door, waving her hand over her shoulder. The door fell shut behind her.

 _Damn_ , that woman was like a whirlwind.

* * *

 **I'm going to end this chapter here, I hope you enjoyed! If you did, leave me a review, or follow, or favorite, or PM, or all four! I love to hear feedback, good and bad! ;)**

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 **Bye!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to all the people who followed, fav'ed and reviewed! I love you like Thor loves his hammer!**

 **DICLAIMER: I own nothing, only my OC and any storyline you don't recognize from the franchise. The Avengers, Captain America and all other heavenly films are owned by Marvel, and of course, the most badass person in any Marvel production, Stan Lee.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

"This is what she calls _basics_?" I muttered. "The woman brought me an entire wardrobe…"

I was inspecting the contents of the bags Pepper had brought me, and realized she had brought me _a lot_ more than what I would have called 'basics'. Beside some plain tank tops, T-shirts, long sleeved tops, socks and underwear, she had also brought me two pairs of skinny jeans, two pairs of leggings, three skirts, three hoodies, two vests, sweatpants, sneakers, stockings, pajamas, a bath robe and four cardigans; that was the stuff I could agree on, maybe it was a bit much, but I could live with it. But it wasn't all she had brought me; in the bags I had also found a gorgeous burgundy A-line dress with pearls on the collar, a formal black dress, black heels of a height and width I could actually pull off, black flats, sandals (it was summer after all) and last but not least; an absolutely stunning brown leather jacket, for which I was incredibly thankful. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful for everything she brought me, but the jacket… I instantly fell in love with it. Miraculously, everything was my size as well, even the shoes. Pepper must have the same size as me then.

In a smaller bag, I also found some other essentials, like a toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo and shower gel, a hairbrush, nail clipper and even some pads and tampons, not that I needed those. I haven't had my period since before I turned eighteen. I knew I should probably worry about that, but I was too happy that I didn't have to deal with that anymore to actually care.

I laid some clothes aside to get dressed in after showering, and put the rest away in the closet I hadn't noticed before because it stood behind the door.

Grabbing the shampoo and shower gel, I made my way to the bathroom, locking my door before doing so. I undressed and, freezing, hurried into the shower. I hadn't been naked since the day I left Baltimore, that had been the last time I showered. I wasn't used to having no clothes on anymore; I always wore layers upon layers of clothes, even in July. You'd think I'd be incredibly hot under all those clothes, but the truth was that it didn't bother me anymore. And considering it kept people safe from me, it was a small price to pay. When the hot water touched my skin, I actually flinched at first, before I allowed myself to relax. Showering again after nearly a year and a half felt really, _really_ good. At first I just stood there for a while, simply enjoying it.

When I finally emerged from the shower, I had been in there for over an hour. It had taken me a while to get clean, and to get the greasiness out of my hair. I grabbed a towel from the rack next to the shower and dried myself. I glanced at the mirror, and immediately noticed the difference with the way I looked before I got in the shower. I looked… healthier. My eyes narrowed though when I saw I still had the green contacts in. Realizing I didn't need them anymore, I took them out, and threw them in the bin. There; my chocolate brown eyes could be seen again. I smiled slightly at my own reflection, before I treaded over to my bed and put on some underwear. I got dressed in a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, a black tank top and a grey hoodie. I had combed my hair, and let it hang loose to dry. After putting on my trusty combats, I finished by pulling on my gloves.

When I was done, I flopped down on my bed, letting my feet dangle over the edge. I figured I still had about 15 to 20 minutes left before Phil would come, so you can imagine my surprise when I heard a knock on my door.

I unlocked the door and came face to face with said man. "You're early," I stated.

"I assumed you were about done now. Did Pepper give you everything you needed?"

I nodded. "Yeah… Although, there is one thing I would like." Phil raised his eyebrows, gesturing me to continue. "Could you please get me some hair dye remover? I'd like my own color back."

He smiled kindly and nodded. "I'll make sure you'll have it by the end of the day." He pulled out his phone, fiddled with it for about half a minute – probably sending a text to the person whom was going to get it for me – before pocketing it again. "Ready to go?"

Smiling slightly, I waved for him to lead the way. We went down in the elevator, and ended up on the same floor as the hospital wing I had woken up in earlier, but we walked passed it, and continued on to the end of that hallway, where we entered some sort of lab area. There were three women in lab coats waiting for us. Phil went up to one of them, said something to her and then, with a small smile my way, left.

Then the testing began. They took some blood, they swabbed my mouth with a cotton swab, they made me go through some sort of MRI machine, they did an eye test; and at one point they directed me to a dark room, where I had to stand on a platform, where they did a scan I wasn't really sure of what it scanned exactly, but there were all sorts of light beams going over me from head to toe, backwards and sideways, basically in all possible directions. They also made me take off my gloves and made me put them in a basin full of a transparent, slimy goop, not sure what the point of that was.

That were the physical tests. They ran some psychological tests too. Very cliché, but the first one they took was the typical 'Tell me what you see in this ink blot'-test. I never had understood the use of those. Another one took over an hour, and I was pretty sure it was an IQ test. They also took a personality test and a behavioral assessment test, and I only knew that because the lady who took them was nice enough to tell me.

After three hours of mental and physical prodding, I was absolutely exhausted. The good thing was that they were finally done. The lady who took the last test guided me towards to a kind of waiting room, and told me that agent Coulson was going to come and get me. I slumped in my chair and closed my eyes for a moment.

I opened them again, about five minutes later, at the sound of someone clearing their throat in front of me. The lady who took the eye test, also the woman Phil spoke to when he brought me here, stood before me, a small box in her hands.

She handed me the box with a smile. "Agent Coulson told me this might come in handy." Then she promptly turned around and left.

I followed her leave with my eyes for a moment in curiosity, before I turned my attention to the box on my lap. It was a simple black box, made out of a smooth material, the shape kind of resembling a shoebox. I slowly lifted the lid and put it aside. One glance into the box, and I couldn't contain a gasp; as I knew exactly what I had received.

Inside the box, were two items. One of them was a spectacle case, the other a case for contact lenses. Opening the first case, I found a pair of glasses, the frame similar to the one I was wearing right now, only with thinner glasses and black instead of brown. They were what people would refer to as 'nerd glasses', not that that mattered to me, I liked the design. I took my glasses off and replaced them with the new ones, and gasped. They were exactly my prescription! Everything was so much clearer, and the fact that they were precisely what my eyes needed, they were instantly soothed. Too focused on the glasses, I disregarded the other case, knowing full well there would be contacts in there with the same prescription as the glasses. I was smiling widely, feeling giddy and happy and all that other good stuff.

"I'm glad you like them," a voice suddenly spoke up.

I jumped, only now noticing Phil sitting in the chair next to me. "You scared me," I breathed.

"My apologies," he shrugged.

"It's okay." And then I thought of his previous statement. "And I don't like them, I love them! Thank you so much, Phil!"

I reached out to hug him out of excitement, but then stopped midway, realizing I couldn't. The risk of me touching him was too high. The very first time it had happened had been because of a hug. I didn't need a repeat of that.

Retreating in my chair, I threw him an apologetic look, which he answered with a small, sad smile. "You're welcome. I also got you something else, you'll find it in your room."

I nodded in thanks, and we stood up. He took me back to my room, where he said goodnight and left me on my own for the night. I hadn't realized it had become so late already. When I looked out of my window, I saw the sky was pitch dark, and the lights of the City That Never Sleeps were the only source of light.

Closing the curtains, I turned around and noticed the box on my desk. I moved closer, picked it up and smiled when I realized what it was. _Hair dye remover._ I put the box back down, deciding that was going to be something for tomorrow morning.

I changed into the pajamas Pepper had brought me, turned off the lights and climbed into bed, hoping the change of environment would somehow prevent the nightmares from coming. Exhausted, it didn't take long for me to fall asleep.

* * *

Obviously, the changed environment didn't help at all to keep me from having nightmares, I thought once I had calmed down enough after waking up crying five minutes ago. The alarm clock next to my bed told me it was 02:48 AM. Sighing, I got out of bed, knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep again. I turned on the lights, looking for something to do. First, I powered up the radio on a low volume, so it wouldn't be so quiet in here. Then I decided I should just do my hair. It wasn't like I had something better to do. So after reading the instructions, I put the product on my hair. But because I had to let it work on my hair for a while, which was according to the instruction manual two hours for the current shade of my hair, I had some time to kill, with still nothing to do.

Looking at the door, I contemplated going out, snooping around for a bit. When my stomach started to growl, realizing the last time I ate something were the sandwiches in Phil's office, I gave in, pulled on my robe and headed out. I wandered quietly through the hallway, assuming all the doors I passed must also be sleeping quarters. I rounded a corner, continued walking for a bit and reached the end of that corridor. It was a dead-end, but a dead-end with an area to lounge, with seats and sofas, bookcases and even a television. But on the other side of the room I found something I was more interested in at the moment; a small kitchen with a few tables and chairs.

Searching the fridge and cabinets for something to eat and drink, I found a waffle iron and after quickly checking if I had all the ingredients, I knew exactly what I was going to be making. I prepared the dough-like batter, using sugar, yeast, flour, eggs, water, butter, pearl sugar – which surprised me that they had it here – and just a pinch of salt. While I let it rest under a moist towel for fifteen minutes, I first plugged in the iron to preheat it and after that I started making something to drink. Taking a pot, I poured milk into it and waited for it to boil. Then I added chocolate to it and a cinnamon stick, stirring it thoroughly. I lowered the heat, placed a lid on top and started baking the waffles.

Twenty minutes later, I sat down at the table closest to the kitchen, a pile of steaming oval-shaped waffles and a mug of hot chocolate in front of me. As was custom whenever I cooked, I had made way too much. But then I had some over for another time. I took a bite, and nearly moaned at the flavor. They were _so good_ , if I said so myself. They tasted like home.

After a few minutes, I suddenly heard someone entering the kitchen, yawning loudly. I glanced over and saw a man with sandy blonde hair. He appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties and was barefoot, wearing a grey T-shirt and checkered flannel trousers. He was rubbing his eyes while walking over to the kitchen; obviously he had just crawled out of bed. It seemed like he hadn't noticed me yet – or he had, but chose to ignore me. But I guessed it was the first case, because while reaching in the cabinet for a mug, he noticed the mess I had made, froze and started sniffing the air. He slowly turned around, and his gaze met mine. He looked me over, his gaze resting on my with product covered hair, before his piercing grey eyes lowered and started ogling the pile of waffles.

I rolled my eyes. "You know, if you want some, all you have to do is ask."

His gaze rose again. "May I help you eat those? You made too much anyway."

I raised my eyebrows at that comment, but gestured for him to take a seat. He sat down in the chair opposite me, grabbed a waffle and carefully took a bite. His eyes widened comically.

"Oh. My. God," he exclaimed, pausing after each word. "These are amazing."

A small smile formed on my lips. "Thanks," I said, and took a sip of my drink.

He eyed my mug curiously. "What are you drinking?"

"Hot chocolate."

He frowned. "But we don't have hot chocolate powder here – wait a minute, did you make that yourself?"

"Uhu," I hummed. "Want some?" Before he could answer, I directed him to the counter, where I had left the pot. "You'll have to see if it's still warm enough though."

He stood up and filled himself a mug of still steaming hot chocolate, obviously not cold yet, before he sat down again. He took a sip and nodded his head approvingly. "I like the cinnamon touch."

We munched on the waffles in silence for a while. I held my head down, looking at my food, but I could feel this unknown man's gaze on me once in a while. Finally, I got tired of it and looked up. He was watching me with a pensive look. When our gazes met, he stopped and cleared his throat.

"So," he started. "Where did you learn to make these? I've never had waffles like this before."

Swallowing the bite I currently had in my mouth, I answered, "Belgium."

He raised an eyebrow. "But aren't Brussels Waffles supposed to more like a rectangle and lighter, thicker and fluffier? Why aren't these like that?"

"Because they aren't Brussels Waffles," I retorted. "These are waffles from Liège, or 'Luikse Wafels' as we call them where I'm from. Brussels Waffles are more internationally known, but in Belgium we eat these the most."

He hummed in thought. "I can understand why; these are _way_ better." He took another mouthful. "So how did a Belgian girl end up in the states, speaking English as well as she does?"

"Not trying to be rude, but why should I tell someone when I don't even know their name?"

"You have a point there," he said, wiping his hands on his shirt and holding one out for me to shake. "Clint Barton."

I glanced down at my ungloved hands. I had taken them off while doing my hair, and because it was the middle of the night, I had thought I wouldn't need them and had left them in my room. "I'm sorry, but I can't shake your hand right now, I don't have my gloves," I admitted quietly.

"It's okay," he said. "Just tell me your name and we'll pretend we shook hands," he brushed over it, slightly smirking.

"Alright. Arabella Willems, pleasure to meet you Mister Barton," I grinned, appreciating the fact that he didn't ask me more.

"Clint, please. 'Mister Barton' makes me sound so old."

"Clint," I repeated with a smile. "First-name basis already, huh?" I joked.

"You tell me, _Arabella_ ," he responded, still smirking, with a twinkle in his eyes.

I laughed. Clint was very pleasant to talk to; he made you feel right at ease. "To answer your earlier question," I changed the subject. "I grew up in Belgium, and lived there till I was fifteen. Then my mom married my American stepdad and we moved to Baltimore. And my English, well, it has always been good. I watched a lot of English movies and TV-shows when I was younger, and I think that that, along with genuinely _wanting_ to be able to speak the language, really helped."

He nodded. "I can see that. And how did you end up here? I mean, you're obviously new, I think I would have remembered seeing a face like yours."

I rolled my eyes. "Stop flirting. It's not working."

He raised his hands in an innocent gesture. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't," I scoffed, but then gave in. "Look, I don't really like talking about it, but-"

Clint interrupted me. "If you don't want to talk about it at the moment, then that's fine, I understand. We all have stuff we prefer to keep private."

I smiled grimly. "Thanks. But I have a feeling you might find out anyway. And besides, you seem trustworthy enough."

So while we ate the waffles and drank hot chocolate, I basically told him my life story, everything that had happened from the day I left Baltimore, but leaving the details of what happened on my eighteenth birthday out of it. I also told him about what I could do, and why I wear gloves. Partially, the reason why I told him was also a warning for him not to directly touch me. He was being very considerate, which I was eternally grateful for. In return he told me that he was a SHIELD agent, just like Phil, only he worked more in the field as a spy, whereas Phil's job was something else entirely; Clint was very vague about it. He talked about his partner, Natasha Romanoff, who, apparently, used to be an infamous master assassin before he gave her a second chance. He had been sent out to kill her, but he had made a different call. Today they were great friends, and from the way he spoke about her, I could tell she meant a lot to him.

After a while we started talking about other things as well, and moved from the table to the counter, where we started to clean up the kitchen. We had just finished cleaning up, when he suddenly said, "You know, there's something I've been wanting to ask you since I first saw you."

I looked at him curiously.

"What's up with your hair?"

My eyes widened. "Shit, it's been over two hours already!" He looked at me, surprised at my outburst. "Clint, it was nice meeting you and thanks for the lovely talk we had, but now I need to go and wash this out. Bye!"

I rushed to my room, leaving a baffled Clint Barton behind. I immediately headed for the shower, where I rinsed the hair dye remover out. After ten minutes of thoroughly rinsing and fifteen minutes of blow drying, I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection.

In combination with my own eye color, the right glasses and now my freshly own chocolate brown hair again, I looked and felt like the person I was before I left Baltimore. Once my initial shock of looking like _me_ again subdued, I started smiling. I smiled so widely that I thought my face would break. But I couldn't help it; I was so fucking happy.

Being in an extremely good mood, I actually whistled while heading out of the bathroom. Looking at the time, I noticed it was a few minutes past six am already and decided I should just start getting ready for the day. I got dressed in the same outfit I wore yesterday, except for the black tank top, which I exchanged for a white one. Walking over to the window, I opened the curtains and saw the sky was starting to clear up in the beautiful colors of the morning, and I could tell it was going to be a lovely Summer's day.

Deciding I didn't want to wait around in my room for someone to come and get me, who knows how long that would take, I headed back over to the area I had been in nearly 45 minutes ago now. I walked past the kitchen, this time going towards the sofa section. I pulled a book out of one of the bookcases and settled down. _First in the series 'A song of Ice and Fire', famous from the new but already wildly popular TV-show 'Game of Thrones',_ I read. This simply cannot be bad, I thought.

And my assumption had been correct. I quickly became engrossed with the story, not caring about my surroundings. Sure, I noticed that the kitchen became busier as time passed, people came in and had breakfast, and I noticed when it became calm again, but I wasn't really paying attention.

It was only when I saw movement directly in front of me out of the corner of my eyes that I finally looked up... And became face to face with the man with the eye patch I saw two days ago, the one with the long leather coat, the one who had been talking to the blonde man who had somehow touched me without dropping to the ground.

" _You_!" I breathed, sounding accusing.

He raised his one eyebrow. "You know me?"

"Yeah, I saw you the other day, you were talking to that blonde guy."

His gaze hardened slightly but otherwise didn't respond to that. "Look, Arabella – it _is_ Arabella right? Coulson told me – I'm Director Fury, I own this organization. Your first test results came in, and as far as we can tell, you seem okay. Aside from the obvious of course," he said, looking at my gloved hands. "So I'm going to suggest a deal. You'll come work for us, and in return we'll train you; help you control your ability, train you in combat, that sort of stuff. You'll be paid a small amount of money and you can keep your room, it's yours." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an electronic key card, probably one that would give entrance to the building from the outside. "What do you say?"

I looked at him questioningly. "What do you mean with 'work'?"

He sighed. "I'm not sure yet. But until I figure it out, you can train yourself."

I thought it over for a couple of moments. It was a good deal. I had a place to eat, sleep, wash and all that, and I could learn more about my ability. The only thing he wanted in return was that I worked for him, and for now even he himself didn't know what I would be doing yet, so that probably won't be all that bad. The deal was too good to decline, so I nodded my head. "Sure. Why not?"

He bobbed his head in approval, and pulled some paperwork out of the inner pocket of his coat, and a pen. "If you could sign these papers? By signing, you'll officially be a part of SHIELD, and swear not to tell anyone about the things you might see, hear or learn while you're here."

He handed me the pen and the contract. I didn't hesitate, I signed instantly, using the book I had been reading for support.

After I returned the pen and contract, he stood up and started walking away. "Welcome to SHIELD, Miss Willems."

"Director Fury," I called out, he halted and turned enough to look at me. "Who was he? The blonde man?"

He stood there for a moment, before he continued walking, not answering my question.

* * *

 **And that's it for this chapter! I hope you enjoyed, feel free to leave me a review if you did, it's very encouraging to keep writing ;)**

 **Before you read the next chapter, there are a few things I need to clarify. 1) I ship Clintasha, so that's going to happen in this story. That's why Clint stays at SHIELD; he doesn't have a wife and kids. I have nothing against Mrs. Barton, but I'm just not a fan of that story line, the same with Bruce X Natasha, I simply cannot picture those two with anyone else but each other. 2) Between this chapter and the next, is going to be a bit of a time jump. We're going straight into the Avengers, so Arabella can have some time to train and fully integrate into SHIELD.**

 **Thanks for reading! Bye!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A big thank you to everyone that took the time to follow, favorite, and review! I love you like Hulk loves to smash!**

 **DICLAIMER: I own nothing, only my OC and any storyline you don't recognize from the franchise. The Avengers, Captain America and all other heavenly films are owned by Marvel, and of course, the most badass person in any Marvel production, Stan Lee.**

* * *

 **Part II**

 **Chapter 4**

Months passed since that day in July. I trained, and trained, and yes; trained even more. Together with Clint, who had become my training buddy, we learned that my other powers encompassed super strength, super speed, great agility and endurance, and an enhanced reaction time. I still didn't know where these extra powers had come from; suddenly I just had a whole set of additional abilities. Clint didn't understand it either, but ultimately there was nothing else we could do but accept it, and try to train it.

So that's what we did. Controlling them turned out to be very easy, it was as if I had had them all my life. After only a week we moved onto something else; hand-to-hand combat. That was a little more difficult. And when I say a little, I mean _a lot_. For starters, Clint didn't have the advantage of super strength, which meant I could easily hurt him ten times more than he could hurt me. That's why I needed to restrain myself all the time, and doing that while you're actually trying to learn something, is admittedly way more problematic than it would seem. And of course, there was the risk of me touching him, and although we were both dressed from head to toe, I still needed to be careful.

One time during training, Fury showed up; he came to check on how my training was going. Clint told him it was doable, but it wasn't easy. He suggested, with a meaningful look in Fury's direction, that someone else might be more qualified to teach me, someone who could handle the strength, but Fury just scowled and stormed off. When I asked Clint what that was all about, he just told me 'not to worry about it'.

When I had hand-to-hand-combat under control, Clint called in his partner; the infamous Black Widow, whom was going to teach me how to shoot. At first I wondered why he himself didn't show me, but eventually he begrudgingly admitted that Natasha was the better shot out of them both. He was better with arrow and bow than with guns, and she was the best marksman – marks _woman_ – he knew. Again, I noticed how admiringly he spoke about her, and pondered if there wasn't something going on between them. For me, Clint wasn't hard to read; at times he was like an open book, and I could tell he really cared about her. But Natasha, she was something else entirely. Over the weeks we spent together at the shooting range somewhere in SHIELD's basement, I would like to say I got to know her, at least a bit. Frustratingly, that wasn't the case. Don't get me wrong; Natasha and I got along great. But I didn't get the feeling like I got to know the _real_ Natasha Romanoff. She was always super secretive, never really opening up. Clint probably knew her a lot better than anyone, if the meaningful gazes I sometimes caught them giving each other meant anything. Whenever they did that, it was like they were having an entire conversation, just by looking at one another.

Months kept passing. Holiday season came and went. I spent Christmas with Phil and his girlfriend, Audrey, a cellist from Portland. She was so nice, and she played us a lovely piece on her cello. I definitely approved of her, and was very happy for Phil. I celebrated the new year with Clint and Natasha, throwing a party on the rooftop of the SHIELD-building. Incredibly drunk, I dubbed 2012, the year to come, as the Year of Doom; our final year on earth – you know, with the prophecy the Mayans made, thousands of years ago, about the apocalypse. We were all serious for a moment, before we laughed our drunken asses off. When February arrived, so did my 20th birthday. We had a quiet party. I made a pie; not just any pie, but a traditional one from the area I grew up in. No pie in the world can beat 'Limburgse Vlaai'. I shared it with Clint, Natasha and Phil, and even Fury decided to join us. Phil had invited Pepper over, and I was glad to see the strawberry blonde again. Since that one time she had brought me clothes, I hadn't seen or spoken to her. She had been very busy. But the construction of Stark Tower was nearing its end, only two more months now. And when it was finished, Pepper repeated her earlier offer, I should visit her there once in a while. Meanwhile, I had also started to wear contacts during the day, instead of glasses. It simply was more practical.

April came, and I had, according to Clint, learnt everything there was to know about survival, so I had been promoted to 'Agent in training'. Basically that meant that I would accompany Clint out in the field on missions, observe what needed to be done, which rules to follow… All that fun stuff. The first time I went out, Clint had been assigned a relatively laidback job in the facility SHIELD had in the desert of New Mexico, probably to go easy on me. We were to guard a blue cube, called the 'Tesseract'. Everything went fine, we were there, kept an eye out for anything, but in the few weeks we were there, nothing happened.

Until that one day in May.

* * *

"So how are things going?"

Clint and I were sitting on the edge of an elevated metal platform, leaning our heads on the railing. From our point of view, we had a clear overlook on the room, and most importantly, on the Tesseract. People thought it was weird we were so high up, and that we impossibly could be doing our jobs right. But they were so wrong. They assumed that at the height we were sitting, everything below us would be too tiny to perfectly see, but actually it was easier to assess the whole shebang from up here than from down on the ground.

"Clint," I sighed. "You know how it's going. I'm with you almost 24/7."

He groaned. "I know, I know. But we've been sitting here for ages, I'm bored out of my mind."

Turning to look at him, I suggested, "Why don't we play a game?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, it's nothing difficult, just something to pass the time. I used to do it all the time with my sister during long car trips."

His gaze softened. He knew my sister was a sore spot. "Alright, tell me how it works."

"It's really easy. One of us says a word, and the other has to answer within fifteen seconds with another word, but the first letter of the new word has to be the last letter of the previous one. You understand?"

He nodded. "I think so. And you can say any word?"

"Essentially, yes. But there are a few exceptions of course."

"Of course there are," he smirked. "And I thought this was going to be easy."

"Shut up," I said, pushing him by the shoulder, but smiling anyways. "You can't use names, verbs, places or a word from another language. Also using a word that has already been said is forbidden."

"And how can you win?"

"When the other person can't think of something before the time runs out, obviously. Or when they use a wrong word."

"Okay, I think I got it," he grinned. "Let's play. I'll start. Spider."

"Rat."

"Teacup."

"Pyramid."

"Denmark."

I grinned victoriously at him. "You lost."

"What? Already? How?" he asked me, bewildered.

"Denmark is a place, you dummy," I laughed.

His face hardened, gaze determined. "I want to play again," he nearly grumbled.

"Sure. But don't cry when I kick your ass again," I jested.

We played about a dozen more rounds, me winning most of them. Clint had actually managed to win a few times, which surprised me, since I had been the unbeaten queen since I was ten. "You're cheating!" I accusingly pointed at him after he won for the fourth time. "I don't know how but somehow you are!"

He raised his hands in an innocent gesture. "How the hell can I cheat? You're the one that can't think of any words."

"You're purposely distracting me."

"Or maybe you're just a sore loser," he retorted.

 _Barton! Willems! I'm not paying you to bicker like children!_ Fury's voice could suddenly be heard through our earpieces. _Come down for report._

"Yes, sir," Clint responded.

We looked at each other for a moment, before we both grinned – a peace offering – and made our way down to where Fury was waiting for us, tapping his foot impatiently.

"I gave you this detail so you could keep a close eye on things," Fury said, that everlasting scowl on his face. "And you're supposed to teach Willems here how an agent behaves."

"We see things better from a distance," Clint defended.

Fury raised his eyebrow and looked at me in question. I nodded my head. "It's true Sir. It's way easier to keep an eye out from afar."

He grumbled something incoherently, but seemed to accept our explanation. "Have you seen anything that might set this thing off?" He was referring to the irregularities the Tesseract was showing.

Meanwhile, we could hear one of the scientists say to Dr. Selvig, the doctor called in by SHIELD to examine the Tesseract, "Doctor, it's spiking again." Selvig hurried over to join her at the screen with stats on the blue cube.

"No-one's come or gone. And Selvig's clean; no contacts, no IMs. If there was any tampering Sir, it wasn't at this end," Clint told him the theory the both of us had come up with. We had moved, and were now standing in front of the Tesseract.

Fury directed his gaze at us. "At _this_ end?"

"Well, yeah," I started. "I read in the file that the Tesseract is a doorway to space. Doors open from both sides, right?"

Before anything else could be said, a pulse went through the cube, making the whole building shake and rumble. The pulses became more frequent, and we all took a few steps back, staring at it in apprehension. Suddenly, a beam shot out from the Tesseract, aimed at the other side of the room. It created some sort of black hole, growing bigger and bigger, until we could see the dark abyss that was outer space. I gazed at the stars that we could see through the hole for a moment, mesmerized, before another pulse, a big one this time, swept over the room, blue light surrounding us for a couple of seconds. When the light died down, the portal was closed. The remaining blue energy floated to the top of the room, where it continued to hover and swirl.

At the moment I could see clearly again, I immediately drew my weapon. Because at the exact spot as the black hole had been, a man was kneeling, obviously someone who had just used the portal. It was nerve-wracking and exciting at the same time; there was an actual _alien_ in the same room as I was. _I've always known we were not alone…_

I was pulled out of my thoughts when four of our men, dressed in full body armor, armed with rifles, were nearing the newcomer, who slowly rose. We could see a wide grin on his face, a look that yelled 'Dangerous!' – no, I think the best word to describe that look, was _mischievousness_ – and it made several alarm bells in my head blare at me in warning.

"Sir, please put down the spear," Fury called out.

The man merely looked down at the weapon he was holding, before looking up at Fury again. Then he suddenly fired his weapon, the blue energy in the top of it resembling the Tesseract shooting out at us. Clint knocked us over at the last moment, causing the blast to hit a heavy machine behind us. The man proceeded to fight everyone attacking him, but the fight didn't last long. Ten seconds passed, and everyone was down on the ground. Clint tried attacking him again, but the unknown man grabbed his wrist, twisting it slightly.

"You have heart," the man said in an accent I couldn't place. It sounded British, but I was pretty sure that Great Britain was not where he was from. Next to me, Fury stood up, looking at the scene transpiring between Clint and the stranger. He raised his spear, a blue light engulfing it, and aimed it right at Clint's heart.

"Clint!" I called out in desperation. I stood up and aimed my weapon, but it was already too late. The tip of the scepter touched his chest, and I could see even from my spot his eyes turning blue. The stranger smiled, and Clint relaxed his stance, putting away his gun in the holster on his thigh. My mouth dropped. What the hell had just happened? Had he just turned Clint over to the dark side?

I wasn't the only one who was baffled. Looking at Fury, I could see his mouth was gaping as well, before his jaw clenched in determination. He turned around to the Tesseract, grabbing it with his gloved hand. He placed the smoking hot cube in a metal briefcase closed it and grabbed my arm, turning to leave. Meanwhile, the man had done the same thing he had done to Clint to the rest of the agents still conscious. Fury and I tried to sneak off, but suddenly that accented voice called out to us.

"Please don't. I still need that."

Fury turned slightly towards him. "This doesn't have to get any messier."

"Of course it does. I've come too far for anything else." Fury turned around fully now, and released my arm. "I am Loki, of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose."

Selvig, who had stood up again and had been checking over the people laying on the ground, suddenly spoke up. "Loki? Brother of Thor?"

That rang a bell somewhere… Ah yes, I remembered Phil telling me about the mission he had done in Puente Antiguo, where Thor's hammer had fallen down like a comet. He had actually met him, the Norse god of thunder, and he turned out to be a really nice guy, apparently. Aside from the fact that he was basically an alien.

Loki didn't seem too happy at the mention of his brother, scowling at Selvig.

"We have no quarrel with your people," Fury said, the hand that wasn't holding the briefcase raised up in peace as to prove his point.

"An ant has no quarrel with a boot," Loki jested.

"Are you planning to step on us?"

Meanwhile, the blue energy at the top of the room seemed to become bigger and unrulier. I felt uneasy, maybe it would be a good idea to leave now? I looked around the room, at the people still standing. Aside from me, Fury and Selvig, everyone was under Loki's control. Sadly, I watched Clint stand there, a puppet in this Asgardian's hands.

"I come with glad tidings, of a world made free," Loki said, strolling around.

"Free from what?"

"Freedom. Freedom is life's great lie. And once you accept that, in your heart," he said, and turned around to Selvig, who had been foolish enough to stand right beside the obviously very dangerous threat. Loki's scepter touched Selvig's chest and his eyes too turned a bright blue. "…You will know peace," he finished.

"Yeah, you say peace, I kind of think you mean the other thing." While Fury spoke, I looked up, and saw that the blue energy was starting to tear the building apart.

Clint had noticed the same thing. "Sir, Director Fury is stalling," he said to Loki, and my skin crawled at the way he called him 'Sir'. "This place is about to blow and drop 100 feet of rock on us. He means to bury us."

"Like the pharaohs of Odin," Fury said.

"He's right," Selvig said from behind a computer. "The portal is collapsing in on itself. You got maybe two minutes before this goes critical."

"Well then," Loki said, turning his gaze on Clint, who didn't hesitate and shot Fury. He dropped down behind me, but I didn't look, instead raising my weapon, aiming it at the black-haired villain. I had been silent for the entire conversation, mostly because it had been Fury's job to assess the foreign threat. But not anymore.

"What did you do to Clint?" I bit out.

Loki raised a finger at said agent, who lowered his gun. Clint would have shot me if he hadn't done that. "I opened up his mind," he explained. "He's free now."

"Oh yeah? Last time I checked, the definition of freedom wasn't being a puppet on strings in the hands of a psychopath," I said, my jaw clenched.

Loki stalked closer. "You won't shoot me," he taunted. "You're not strong enough. How I know that? Because you're nothing more than a _mewling quim_ ," he nearly growled, and raised his spear to my chest. The blue light tickled my torso and when it faded… nothing had happened.

His face contorted in confusion. And while I was confused as well, I smirked triumphantly. "Am I now?" I responded to his earlier statement. "Would a mewling quim do this?" I said. I drew my gun again, and shot him in his leg.

Cursing, Loki hit me with his scepter, knocking me down. He would have done more, but Clint interrupted. "Sir, we really need to go now, we need to get out of here before this all explodes. Leave her, she'll die anyway."

"Somehow I doubt that," Loki muttered, still seething. But he realized the gravity of the situation. He raised his scepter at me in a threatening fashion. "Bye for now. I'm sure we'll meet again."

Then he promptly stalked off, Selvig and the agents under Loki's control following him. Clint picked up the briefcase with the Tesseract before joining them. I watched him go sadly, and made a promise to myself, to anyone willing to hear; we were going to get him back.

I paced over to Fury, kneeling down next to him and tapped his cheeks with my gloved hands. "Director Fury! Sir, please, wake up!" I shook him by his shoulders, which seemed to help.

He groaned and sat up straight, grabbing his com receiver. "Hill! Do you copy?" he nearly shouted into the device, pulling the bullet that shot him out of his bulletproof vest. He was lucky he had decided to wear one today; although he would most definitely get a painful bruise from the hit. "Barton has been compromised!"

Maria never responded, but when we heard gunshots, we knew she had gotten the message. The room was now starting to tear itself apart at an alarmingly increasing pace. I grabbed Fury by his arm, putting it over my shoulder, making sure there was no risk of him touching me, and supported him while we tried to get away as fast as we could.

"They got the Tesseract!" Fury said to Maria. "Shut them down!"

We just ran onto the rooftop, when Phil's voice could be heard over the device. "We're clear upstairs, Sir. You need to go. Is Arabella with you?"

We made our way into the helicopter waiting for us, and we were only up in the air for a few seconds, before a huge shockwave went through the facility. "Yes, Coulson, she's with me," Fury answered as soon as he knew we were safe from the explosion.

We caught sight of the truck with Loki sitting on the back leaving, and followed them. Flying past them, we hovered in front of them. Fury opened the door and started shooting, and I joined him. It ended quickly when Loki shot at us with his scepter and sent our helicopter falling to the ground. Fury grabbed my arm and we jumped out, fortunately we weren't far above the ground, but unfortunately, the pilots didn't jump out and crashed down with the chopper. I grunted when I touched the ground, but used those techniques Clint had taught me and rolled over, placing my knee on the ground and aimed my gun in one smooth movement. I fired a few times at the departing truck, but it was no use; they were too far away. Throwing my gun to the ground in frustration, I looked over at Fury and saw he had been doing the exact same thing.

"Are you alright?" I asked him.

He nodded. "You?"

I just nodded in return, leaning my hands on my knees, catching my breath.

"Director? Director Fury do you copy?"

"The Tesseract is with the hostile force. I have men down. Hill?" Fury talked into his walkie talkie.

After a couple of seconds, Maria responded. "A lot of men still under, don't know how many survivors."

"Sound the general call. I want every living soul not working rescue looking for that briefcase," Fury commanded Hill.

"Roger that."

"Coulson, get back to base. This is a _level seven_. As of right now, we are at war," he said, with a grave look in my direction.

"What do we do?" Phil asked.

A small spark of hope appeared on Fury's face. "We assemble our Avengers."

After a beat of silence, we could hear Phil say a weak "Roger that". Fury put his com device back in the holder on his belt meant for it.

"Sir?" I asked him. He turned around to look at me. "What do you mean with 'Avengers'?"

He didn't answer at first, just seized me up with a calculating look. "You'll see," was all he said, before he turned around and started walking to the new helicopter that had begun it's decent to where we stood, here to pick us up.

The flight to the helicarrier was quiet. At least, I thought we were going to our ship/airplane-base, so you can imagine my surprise when we landed at the SHIELD building in New York.

"What are we doing here, Sir?" I asked him as I scrambled out of the helicopter, following him.

"Just making a quick detour. Stay close, Willems. From now on I want you by my side all the time."

We made our way down the building, stopping at the conference room. He made a call to the members of the board, ordering me to wait outside for a moment. When he was done, we descended further, to the garage. Fury unlocked an SUV and as soon as I had closed my door we drove off. I had been quiet all this time, but now I couldn't contain myself any longer. I had to know.

"Why didn't Loki's scepter work on me?" I gushed.

He gripped his steering wheel a little harder. "I don't know either, but I want to. So that's why I'm not letting you out of my sight for the moment."

I was quiet for a second. "Where are we going?"

He didn't answer, he just accelerated the car a little. The rest of the ride was silent. I wasn't used to being alone with him so I didn't know what to say. After about ten minutes, we pulled up at a gym facility somewhere near Central Park. Since it was late at night, I was surprised to see that the lights were still on inside.

We got out of the car and entered the building. Fury lead the way, stopping in front of the door that said 'Boxing'. He turned to me first, and ordered me to wait in the hallway, before he walked in and closed the door behind him.

I leaned back against the wall, sulking. I could hear voices inside, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. Contemplating if I should take a peek through the keyhole, I shifted from one foot to the other. After about five minutes, it turned out it wasn't necessary. The door reopened, and a familiar looking blond man walked out. He was carrying a punching bag over his shoulder and a sports bag in his other hand. He halted and looked surprised for a moment, not expecting a person to be standing there.

"Ma'am," he said politely in greeting. When I didn't respond, he frowned, and looked back at Fury, who had joined us. "Is she okay?" he asked Fury.

The Director sighed heavily. "Willems, what on earth are you doing?"

I suppose I did look rather weird at that moment. I had my head cocked to the side, my eyes narrowed, frowning and my mouth slightly agape, staring at the blond man, trying to figure out where I knew him from, my gut telling me it was important. He had soft looking blond hair, admittedly gorgeous blue eyes, a strong jawline… that stuff told me nothing, so I looked further down. He was very muscular, and tall. He was wearing a white shirt and sweatpants. His body was covered with the sheen of sweat. When I looked down even more, I noticed he was barefoot.

And that's when it clicked.

My eyes widened. " _It's you!"_ I spoke softly, almost whispering.

Still frowning, he asked me, "Have we met before?"

I pulled myself together, standing and looking normally again. "Um yeah, you knocked me over and stepped on my face," I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

His eyebrows furrowed even more. "When was _that_?"

I directed my gaze to Fury. "The day Phil brought me in," I answered. Fury narrowed his eyes in thought. "And uh, you stepped on it with your bare foot," I said to the man before me, pointing at his feet. "Thanks for that, by the way."

That caught Fury's attention. He raised his eyebrow, surprised. "That's not possible. Are you sure?" I nodded. "Are you absolutely, 100% sure?"

"Yes, Sir."

Meanwhile, the blond man watched on in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't believe you, that is simply impossible, Willems," Fury said, ignoring the question. "You know better than anyone what happens when you touch them."

I groaned, and then decided to just show him he was wrong. I took off one of my gloves, and without hesitation pressed it against the side of the blond man's face. Watching him closely for any signs that he was going to pass out, I saw him watching me in confusion and shock at my sudden close presence.

"Uh… Ma'am?" he asked me, cleared his throat and then backed away carefully when I didn't respond.

I turned back to Fury, my arms crossed over my chest and my eyebrows raised as if to say, "see?". The sight before me was kind of hilarious to see. For the first time ever, I saw him looking dumbfounded, utterly speechless, his mouth slightly open. He opened and closed it a few times, obviously not knowing what to say. Finally, he settled on, "We should go." He started walking away.

"What? Sir, no! Don't you realize this is huge?" I shouted after him. "Don't you realize how important this is to me," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

He didn't stop. "We'll talk later, Willems. Come on," he shouted back not even turning around. "And pull that glove back on. And Rogers, I expect to see you tomorrow on site before noon." With those parting words, he was out.

Swirling around to face 'Rogers', I saw that he was already looking at me, his face contorted in what could only be described as 'utter confusion'. "I have no idea what just happened."

"Well you're not the only one," I muttered darkly, looking away.

He regarded me for a few seconds. "Are you alright?"

Raising my gaze to meet his again, I said, "Not really. But that doesn't really matter, now does it?" I said, smiling sadly. I turned around and headed in the way my boss had walked off to. "I suggest you do as he says, I think you know him well enough by now to know he's not fooling around."

Rogers didn't answer me, he just watched me go. I regretted having to leave, but duty calls. I almost turned around on the spot, wanting to run back and ask him who he was and why my touch doesn't work on him, but I resisted. I got into the car and then after that the helicopter, this time heading to the helicarrier. On the flight towards the big vessel, I risked asking Fury, but he, unsurprisingly, didn't answer.

When we arrived, I asked Maria which room I had been assigned to. I wanted to talk to Phil, but I was told he wasn't on board for the moment. I asked about Natasha, but apparently she was in Calcutta. Great. The only two friends I had left were miles away; one wasn't even in the same continent. I could talk to Maria, but I didn't really know her that well yet. Too tired to wait for them to return, I headed to my room. I locked the door behind me and dropped down on my bed. Exhausted from today's events, it didn't take me long to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter, feel free to leave me a review if you did.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Byeeeee xxx**


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